


Of Tattoos and Boundaries

by ThePunkRanger



Series: 2020 Prompt Challenge [3]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Drawing, F/M, Short One Shot, We’ve All Spent Too Much Time Staring At Sherlock’s Tattoos Let’s Be Honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePunkRanger/pseuds/ThePunkRanger
Summary: In a quiet moment, Joan decides to indulge a hobby.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson (Elementary)
Series: 2020 Prompt Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908769
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	Of Tattoos and Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Paint
> 
> ...Even though this ended up having barely anything to do with painting and more just art in general, but hey, that’s how prompts work, right?

It was a silly idea.That was what she’d told herself, over and over, every time it popped into her head.

It would be crossing boundaries.It would be weird.She probably wouldn’t be able to do it right if she tried.

She still wanted to do it, though.

Sherlock was asleep on the couch in the living room, his shirt flung off to some unknown corner of the Brownstone.

Joan bit her lip.If she was going to do it, there would hardly be a better moment.

Quiet as possible, making sure that she went over the creaky fourth step, she snuck upstairs to her room.

The pack of brush-tip markers had been an impulse buy during last year’s back to school sales to go with a bullet journal, something that she could do in the rare moments when they didn’t have a case and Sherlock was busy with something that didn’t need her attention.But she’d barely had the chance to use them.

Until today.

She stacked them with an old, half-used sketch pad, then made her way back downstairs.

Evening sunlight was filtering in through the tall windows of the front room, turning her roommate’s bare chest a delicious gold where he lay in its rays.

Joan smiled, her fingers itching to trace over the tattoos that moved minutely with each slow breath.Shaking her head, she quietly cleared a space on the coffee table, then perched cross-legged on it and slid on her reading glasses.

He really was handsome, she thought idly as she pulled a golden brown marker from the pack.Not that she would ever say such things out loud, of course.There were lines, boundaries, that she didn’t dare cross in their relationship, and giving voice to how deeply she cared for him was one that she didn’t think she would ever even consider toeing the line of.No, she thought, as the sweeping tip of the marker dipped along the lines of his chest, he meant too much to her.If she admitted her feelings and found them unreciprocated, then their relationship would be forever damaged, held tightly at arms’ length with the knowledge of what would never be.

Besides, she had a feeling Sherlock had had enough of artists to last a lifetime.

Here, though... here in this moment, she allowed herself to drink him in.

The red velvet of the couch reflected back onto his skin in the light, and she used light strokes of her pens to mimic its colors.

His tattoos were something she had itched to trace in ink from day one.If he would let her, she would gladly spend hours sitting beside him, filling in the gaps with bright colors, turning his skin into a gorgeous rainbow.

In the position he was in, his left arm hanging loosely off the edge of the couch, she had a perfect view of the majority of his tattoos, even spotting the curves of a stylized M sticking out from the waistband of his jeans.

The quarter-sleeve that wrapped over his left shoulder was what she found herself most nervous about capturing properly, the colors and design intricate enough that she had to keep double-checking herself as she worked.

Letting out a quiet, annoyed huff, she slid from the table and crouched at his side, barely an inch between them as she copied the curving, emerald green body of a dragon, paying special attention to how its sharp talons seemed to find purchase on his skin.

“Would you like me to turn it?”

She jumped, just managing to keep the tip of her pen off of the paper to avoid slashing the image through with green ink.Glancing up, she found herself staring into mischievous hazel eyes.

“What?”She managed, trying to ignore the heat that seemed to be burning away the tips of her ears.

“The light is fading, I could turn my arm to give you a better angle, if you’d like.”

She dropped her gaze, staring intently at the Sherlock on her paper.“No.No, that’s...” she got to her feet, quickly flipping the sketchbook closed, “Sorry.”

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes following her intently as she dropped the book on the table and began gathering up the scattered markers.“You’re a very good artist for an amateur.”

“Yeah, well...” she sighed, folding her glasses and tucking them into her pocket.Psyching herself up, she turned to face him, “I’m sorry.I shouldn’t have...”

Sherlock got to his feet, scruffing a hand through the back of his hair as he yawned.“No need for apologies, Watson.If anything, I’m happy to see that you’ve found a new way to utilize the skill of your hands.Although,” he bounced a little on his heels, hands coming to tuck down in his pockets, “It may do you well to ask next time you need a model.”

Joan ducked her head, a silent admittance of guilt.

“I’ve been told I make an excellent muse for artistic nudes, if you ever find yourself in need of such things,” he continued, back turned to her as he ambled his way towards the kitchen, “I’m sure you can make your own deductions about where such comments came from.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes fondly.She certainly wouldn’t be taking him up on  _ that. _

Probably.


End file.
